


Deck the Halls

by Astrophilla, sunshinewinchesters



Series: Destiel Christmas Advent Calendar 2015 [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 25 Days of Christmas, 25 Days of Destiel Christmas, Christmas, Christmas Decorations, Christmas Fluff, Destiel Advent Calendar 2015, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-05 00:28:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5354024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astrophilla/pseuds/Astrophilla, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinewinchesters/pseuds/sunshinewinchesters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Team Free Will goes shopping for Christmas decorations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deck the Halls

**Author's Note:**

> Written by sunshinewinchesters  
> Beta'd by Astrophilla
> 
> Type: Canonverse AU, established Castiel/Dean
> 
> **The fourth installation of our Destiel Advent Calendar!**

Of all the places Dean has ever expected to see himself, standing in the Christmas decorations aisle of the K-Mart nearest to the bunker was never one of them. Ending up in Heaven, Hell, even Purgatory—not near as unexpected as where he is now, stood in front of a shelf loaded with boxes of Christmas lights in array of colors. Who the hell knew there could be so many kinds? There are ones that fucking twinkle, how is he ever supposed to know which ones to get for the inside of the bunker? Dean plows a hands through his hair, incredulous that he’s actually _here_ , internally debating between the multi-colored lights and the red ones, and not impaling something with a stake or breaking his back digging up a body. This is his life now, well, both the hunting and the sickeningly sweet domestic shit, and he actually kinda loves it. He figures he was due for some good karma, and if it comes in the form of picking out Christmas decorations with his angel boyfriend and brother, then he’s definitely not going to complain. After all, Christmas does have a special place in his heart.

“Dean. Which one?” Sam asks, walking up to him with a wreath in each hand. There’s a small smile on his lips as he holds the one adorned with clumps of red berries and little pine cones. “I kinda like this one,” he admits. Dean can’t help but smile, just reveling in how great it feels to be spending time with his family, contemplating one wreath over the other, and not running after werewolves or being thrown through walls.   
“I’m thinkin’ the pinecones,” Dean replies, smile widening as Sam looks pleased and tosses it into the cart Dean has parked behind him. Dean looks over Sam’s shoulder, searching for the familiar trench coat and dark bed head. “Where’s Cas?”  
“He’s looking at the Christmas tree ornaments, I think,” Sam chuckles, turning his attention to the display of mistletoe and poinsettias. “If I get one of those and hang it up, are you two going to be all disgusting and make me regret it?” the younger hunter asks, pointing at a bundle of mistletoe tied ornately with gold and red ribbon and packaged into a little plastic box. Dean smirks at his brother, reaching around him to grab the box and toss it gently into the cart among the impressive pile of decorations they’ve already amassed.   
“Yes,” The older hunter replies mischievously, leading Sam to groan and roll his eyes.   
“This is why we can’t have nice things,” Sam sighs goodnaturedly, and grabs a box of blue lights and throws it in.   
“No, this is exactly why we _can_ have nice things. Mistletoe didn’t do me any good before, so now I intend to get good use out of it,” Dean promises, and Sam rolls his eyes, elbowing Dean in the ribs and taking control of the cart.   
“Go find your angel before I change my mind.” 

Dean heads down the adjacent aisle and breaks into another smile upon finding Cas. In all of his nerdy Angel of the Lord glory, he stands in front of a rack of tree ornaments, squinting at them with deep contemplation, head cocked to the side. The hunter walks over to him, watching as Cas turns to look at him and smiles that barely-there smile that touches those beautiful blue eyes more than anything. Dean greets him with a quick kiss before coming to a stop at his side to survey the ornaments. Cas takes Dean’s hand, and Dean secretly loves how automatic it’s become for both of them; lacing their fingers together is now as ingrained as putting Baby into gear, or loading more rounds into a shotgun. “Find anything good, Cas?” Dean asks, following the angel’s gaze to the section devoted to little angel figurines. Castiel goes back to his rather intense staring, reaching forward to cup one in his hand, but doesn’t make a move to take it off.  
“These ones are quite nice,” Cas comments, running a thumb over the angel’s ceramic, glittery white wings.

“You like the angel toppers, huh? What a coincidence,” Dean remarks playfully, and Castiel fixes him with a scathing look.   
“Please, don’t make a joke about the similarities between the topper and I,” Cas deadpans, looking hilariously sick of Dean’s Christmas puns, many of which he’s already had to suffer through.   
“What, why would I joke? I love it when my angel tops,” Dean shoots back, winking at Cas and squeezing his hand. Cas’ response is comical; his eyes widen and he lets go of the ornament in favor of turning to Dean, eyes zeroing in on his own.   
“Oh.” Castiel blinked up at him with wide eyes, a light flush gracing his cheeks, and Dean grins. “I was under the impression you preferred to penetrate me.” Dean chokes on a sharp inhalation, his own cheeks now burning.   
“Cas! There are old ladies in here,” he hisses, though he can’t hide the smirk he feels pulling up the corners of his mouth, glancing back over his shoulder to make sure no one is within earshot. Cas doesn’t look away from the hunter but he does lower his voice, which really only has the effect of making it that much more deep and gravelly, and well, going straight to Dean’s dick.  
“If this is the case, I would very much enjoy ‘topping’ when we get home,” Cas replies, and Dean has to swallow hard and forcibly redirect his thoughts, because they are in a store looking at Christmas ornaments and it’s no place for Cas’ bedroom eyes and that damn sultry voice.  
“When we get home, Casanova,” Dean promises, knowing he’s going to have to wait until they’re finished with their decoration hunt first. Time to try and get them back on track if he can channel some blood back to his brain—they still have more stuff to buy.

Cas turns to head further down the aisle, but Dean gives his hand a squeeze, pulling him back. “Wait, grab the angel. We do need one for our tree, if you don’t wanna sit up on top of it,” Dean says with a smirk. Cas scowls at him, squinting in that adorable way of his, but reaches out and gently takes the angel off the hook, holding it in his free hand. “Now off to find some of those sock things you put over the fireplace. Now that we actually have one,” Dean chuckles as he tugs Cas down the next aisle, pleased to find an assortment of stockings. They come to a stop in front of the array of red and green, and Dean runs a hand through his hair, incredulous once again. “I can’t believe I’m buying these things,” he shakes his head, smiling stupidly at Cas as the angel’s eyes soften, his thumb rubbing circles over the back of his hand in a gesture that’s always comforted Dean.   
“I believe Sam would like that one, he is quite fond of dogs,” Cas advises, pointing to a huge red stocking with furry white trim on the top and a brown cartoon puppy dog sewn onto the front, complete with a green bow around its neck and a matching green santa hat.   
“He would, but the moose one looks like him,” Dean says, affection welling up inside him when he looks over and sees how deeply Cas is thinking about which stocking is right for who. He’s not sure why, but something about it fills him with that heady sense of adoration he gets so often now for his angel. “We should get both, ‘cuz why the hell not,” the hunter declares, depositing both of them in the cart. Cas looks satisfied by that, then goes back to scanning each one intently.

“Heh, what about this one? I think Pastor Jim had some sort of stained-glass window like this at the church,” Dean remarks, poking a stocking with a traditional archaic painting type of image of an angel on it, golden halo and feathery white wings included. Cas doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Dean turns to him, suddenly worried he said something insensitive. Relief floods through him when Cas smiles softly, reaching over to brush his thumb over the silky material sewn to make the angel’s robes.   
“I like this one, Dean. It reminds me of the actual day of Christ’s birth, when we came into town and sang, wearing robes similar to theirs, not suits like we wear now. We’d always coordinate our clothing with the fashion of the time, so when we approached people we were less frightening.” Cas muses, and Dean wishes there was some way he could preserve the reminiscent look on Cas’ face. It’s a rare occasion that Cas has happy memories of his past in Heaven, and the few times he recalls them for Dean, he can’t help but be interested and glad that the Host hadn’t always been so corrupt and out to manipulate Cas.   
“Then let’s get it!” Dean suggests, and Cas’ resulting smile is glorious.  
“Are you guys looking for stockings?” Sam asks, coming up behind them with the cart in tow.   
“Yeah, we already got you two, no need to thank us,” Dean says. “Don’t look yet, not until we’ve got them all hung up over our totally kickass fireplace.” Sam seems okay with that, probably because he too found another decoration he likes. He looks like a kid in a candy shop, and damn, what wouldn’t Dean give to keep that jovial, carefree smile on his face. 

“Look what I found, we can put it on the staircase railing,” Sam smiles proudly, holding up a coil of pine garland, complete with red Christmas bows and miniature pinecones. Dean gives him a look, but can picture it perfectly, wound around the railing.  
“What is it with you and pinecones?” Sam gives him a sour look and puts it in the cart, then perks up when he sees a certain stocking hanging up amid the rest.   
“We have to get this one for you, Dean,” Sam says, grabbing a stocking with a red and green Batman logo embroidered onto it.   
“Can’t go wrong with Batman,” Dean approves. “I think we’ve got enough now, what do you guys think?” Sam and Cas give their assent and they head to checkout, Dean unrepentantly paying with cash, because if there’s one thing he doesn’t want to use a dodgy credit card on, it’s this. 

“Do you want to stop for dinner?” Sam asks, riding shotgun as they head back to the bunker, new Christmas decorations in tow and collective excitement to put them up nearly tangible.   
“Well, as much as I could go for a burger,” Dean muses, glancing at Castiel in the back seat, wetting his lips with his tongue, blue eyes engaging Dean’s in that carnal, worshipful way that always has Dean in bed within minutes. Cas’ bedroom eyes are a force to be reckoned with, and Dean doesn’t need much more prompting, considering their conversation from earlier. “I think I’ll have to pass. We have some mistletoe I need to get some use out of.”


End file.
